The Pursued
by eck
Summary: When Rivendell is awakened one night by screams, Legolas, Aragorn, and the twins are plunged into an adventure that could cost them their lives and prove how much their willing to sacrifice for friendship. teaserposter www.geocities.com/the0eck/thepursued
1. The Pursued

_Author's note:  This is a prologue, the rest of the story will be coming as I find time in my busy life to write. Lemme know what you think!!_

_Summary:  When Rivendell is awakened one night by screams, Legolas, Aragorn, and the twins are plunged into an adventure that very may well cost them their souls as well as their lives and prove how much their willing to sacrifice for friendship._

_Rating:  PG-13—for blood and intense moments…do not say I didn't warn you_

_Warnings: not for the faint of heart_

_Disclaimer:  Do I look dead to you? Didn't think so. Therefore I don't own the dudes in this story. _

**_The Pursued_**

_     By eck_

The rain hampered his vision and his steps yet he was grateful for it.  It washed away the blood that was even now flowing from the arrow wound in his shoulder.  It would make it more difficult for his pursuers to tack him.

A flash of lightening lit up the forest silhouetting the dark figure stumbling along the muddy ground. Soaked dark hair was plastered in his face and streaks of watery blood hung around his cheeks. The short sleeved tunic he was wearing was heavy with water from the gushing rain.

He choked slightly as the rain water ran into his open mouth.  A groan was uttered as he lost his balance and almost toppled to the hard ground.

_Elbereth__, forgive me for I have sinned against you…_

He stumbled again and his hands scraped roughly against an old, weathered tree as he grabbed for support.

Another scream echoed behind him and he sobbed aloud.  His halting pace quickened to a staggered run as his lips formed the words to a prayer he had thought long forgotten.

In his mind's eye he saw those that had been left behind, left to fend for themselves against an unbeatable enemy.

He saw the blood, heard the screams, and smelled the death.  And he ran faster.

_Elbereth__, forgive me for I have sinned against…_

Lightning flashed again and he cried out against the barrenness of the forest before him.  He should have reached it by now.

A few more yards. He forced himself to smile at hope that he knew were false.  A few more minutes of running through this dreary forest and he would be there.  He would be safe.

His breath was coming in ragged gasps now and there was a sharp pain in his side.  But it was nothing compared to the pain that was stabbing through his mind and heart; the pain of his guilt would last him a lifetime.

_Elbereth__, forgive me for I have sinned…_

A shout came from behind him.

He gasped in surprise and fear.  They couldn't catch him! He wouldn't let them!  Not when he was so close to reaching his goal! Not so close to freedom!

Footsteps pounded on the through the darkened trees and he could almost sense the eyes burning with hatred that were hunting for him.

Despair came over him.  It wasn't a few yards away.  He would never reach it in time.  He was being hunted down like a dog and he would most likely die like a dog, shot in the back then left there until all his vital fluids had been washed down into the ground by the pouring rain.

_Elbereth__, forgive me for I have…_

The shouts grew louder and fear spurred him to run faster even when his body screamed in protest.

Lightening lit up the trees and he cursed it.  Now his pursuers would see him.  Sure enough, the shouts came closer and the pounding steps had more purpose to them, they were on his tail.

Then, against every instinct of his panicked mind, his body began to slow.  Too much had been blood had been lost and too much energy had been exerted.  It could go no further.

_Elbereth__, forgive me for I…_

An arrow whizzed by his shoulder, shattering a few feet ahead on the on a gray stone.  Then another.

"Shoot him!"  A voice screamed. "Kill him!"

Forcing his body continue the fast pace, he strained his eyes through the storm looking for the destination of his frantic race.

He saw it.

Dark, blurry, but it was there, looming above the horizon like a black wall it was.  Intricate spires tilted up to the sky, speaking of the craftsmanship of those who resided in those walls.

A relieved sob burst past his lips.  Safety.  So close. So far.  Bullets were exploding around him.  It was only a matter of time.

_Elbereth__, forgive me for…_

Another silent cry came past his lips as he saw the gentle light a few of the windows were admitting.  If only their aim would falter a few more times, he could make it.  And mayhap by doing that one good deed, he could atone for the lives, the mistakes, of tonight.

Thunder rolled and rain pounded, but all that existed was the gate and his increasingly ragged breaths.

It was only a matter of time.

_Elbereth__, forgive me…_

Then came the blow and for a moment he thought he would fall but grace kept him on his feet.

Had an arrow hit him at last? But he felt no pain.  What then had hit him?

He wanted to reach back and touch the spot but his frantic mind would not let him slow for anything.

Pain hit him in a wave and he stumbled, gasping against the torrent.  So it had been an arrow.

A strange warmness was running down his back and numbness was seeping into his tired limbs.

His legs would no longer support him, so he fell, landing in a puddle of freezing rain water.  The cold water was a strange contrast to the warm blood coating his back and falling down his sides.

_Elbereth__, forgive…_

He gasped down a shuddering breath that ended in a raspy cough and raised his eyes to look at the towering gate. It was not more than 15 yards away but in his current condition it could've been a thousand miles for all the difference that it made.

Blood was spat from his lips as his lungs filled with fluids.  He could no longer hear the shouts of men; they had left him to die alone on the forest floor.

His heart fluttered weakly in his chest as if fought to keep beating despite the lack of oxygen and blood.  Even as his eyes began to glaze over in eternal sleep, he kept them fixed on his safety that was 15 yards to far away.

As he watched, the gate opened and excited voices sounded from within.  Too late.  Figures began to run towards him.  Too late.

There would be no atonement for him this night.  He would bear the blood of the innocents for all of time. Mayhap, it was better that he died now so he would not have to live with the guilt.

It became too hard breathe so he stopped and felt his faithful heart finally surrender in its weary fight.

_Elbereth__ …_

**_Read and Review!_**


	2. Too Much

**Author's note: well…here we go again…**

**Disclaimer:  **I own the unconscious elf.  And that's about it for now.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**                                                                                                        Too Much**

                                                                                                          By eck

Elrond sighed deeply as he tried to still his shaking hands but it was no use.  Blood was splattered across his robes and dripped from his finger tips.  He raised one hand to wipe his brow but ended up smearing blood in a line across his forehead that ended beyond his hairline.

The airy healer's room was softly glowing as the sun rose to greet the new day and the curtains were slightly ruffled at the cool breeze.

Tiredly, Elrond allowed his eyes to rest on Glorfindel.  

The blonde elf was sprawled across a nearby sleep couch in a very un-elvish manner.  Glazed blue eyes stared in the direction of the sunrise and soft puffs of air escaped the rosy lips on regular intervals.  Blood was also splattered across his robes and there also some in his hair.

_I wish I could sleep.  It's been a long night…too long…_Elrond sighed and turned to look at the elf that had occupied his attentions all night.

Crisp white bandages were wrapped around what had been a mass of blood and flesh.  How the elf had managed to run almost to the very gates of Rivendell surpassed Elrond's comprehension.

Elrond estimated the elf to be in his third millennia and a warrior.  Lean muscles decorated the white arms and what one could see of the chest.  Dark hair, almost black, was swept back in a hasty ponytail that one of the healers had fashioned to keep it out of the way.  The most interesting feature of the elf, Elrond thought, was the thin scar that began at the elf's mouth and stretched to his left ear.

Moving with the grace of his people, Elrond touched the elf's forehead and grimaced when he felt the warmness of the fever signifying infection.  He reached to the side and grabbed a damp cloth which he laid over the warm forehead.  That would suffice for now.

"Glorfindel?"

The said elf's eyes snapped into focus to stare at the Lord of Rivendell.  "Mhm?" he murmured through sleep heavy lips.

Elrond smiled wearily.  "Could you tell the cook I am ready for a little meal and to bring some water for the injured one? I am afraid he has developed something of a fever."

Glorfindell grumbled lightly.  "As soon as I can convince my legs to move I will be happy to fulfill your requests."

Slowly, Elrond lowered himself into a soft chair beside the injured elf's side.  "Do not make it too long, nin mellon.  I am not sure how long my stomach can wait."

With a grunt of chagrinned assent, Glorfindel rose to his feet and silently moved from the room.  "Be back soon."

Elrond watched him go and then turned back to the dark haired elf.  "What caused you to be running through my forests at such an hour, astalder nin? And with such an injury?"  Nimble hands checked the bandages.  "I only wish I could guarantee your survival."

There was no response from the still elf.

Elrond looked back down at his blood y hands, testament of the battle he had fought with death the night before.  "I should go wash," he murmured to himself.  "In just a moment I will."

When Glorfindel returned a few moments later, he found the Lord of the Last Homely House fast asleep.

Four horses clattered into the courtyard of Rivendell.  The first one had barely reached the stone steps before he half dismounted, half tumbled from his horse and commenced to retching on the cool marble.

The second rider was only a moment behind.  He gracefully dismounted and fell beside his friend, supporting his back through the heaves.  His face was clearly distressed and an unreadable emotion shone in the deep blue eyes.  His blonde hair was in the traditional braids of a warrior, but at the moment, was extremely disheveled.

The last two also dismounted and knelt besides the first two offering soothing words.  Their identical hair and faces set them apart as twins.

Finally emptying the contents of his stomach, the dark haired man turned to the blonde supporting to him.  "Why, Legolas, why did…?" his sentenced trailed off as he once again began to heave.

Legolas made no response but stared up at the bright sky with his jaw working fiercely.

Elrohir watched his adopted brother and dear friend comfort each other and then turned to his twin.  " 'Dan?" he murmured.

Turning to look at him, Elladan's eyes clearly showed the horror of what he had just seen.  The wide eyes shut briefly and Elladan found his vision filled with dead elves, mothers, fathers, elfilings not even to their majority, lovers, maidens, warriors: all dead, with identical looks of horror on their faces.  And the blood… he forced his thoughts to stop there, blocking out the rest of the ghastly images.  "I don't know, 'Roh," he whispered.  "I just don't know."

A commotion sounded from within Elrond's palace as the elves became alert to their return.  Tumultuous voices shouted instructions and feet pounded towards their position.

Making a noticeable effort to pull himself together, Aragorn managed to make it to his feet, leaning heavily on Legolas' lithe frame.

Elrohir noted wryly that the Prince of Mirkwood looked no better than his little brother.  He reached out a hand to steady the swaying prince.  "Let's get inside before we all collapse."

Woozily, Aragorn looked up at the entrance to the palace, for the first time aware of the murmuring servants gathered among the decorative pillars.  "Elladan," he muttered, "they didn't know…"

Legolas hushed him gently.

Suddenly, the murmuring of the servants ceased as Lord Elrond, followed by Glorfindel,  swept through their midst and down the steps to greet his sons.  His gaze landed on Aragorn and his eyes clouded over with worry.  "Come in."

Legolas helped the trembling Aragorn into the house with the twins following close behind to make sure he didn't fall.

Elrond led them into the kitchen while Glorfindel ran on ahead to order one of the servants to prepare hot drinks for all of them.  

When Lord Elrond was content that all of them were drinking the liquid, he asked the burning question.

"What happened?"  Worry lines creased Lord's brow.

When it became apparent that no one was going to answer, Elladan took charge.  "We tracked the elf's footsteps and it led us to an elven camp."  He swallowed hard.  "Except all the elves were dead."  Blood flashed through his vision as well as horror filled eyes and vital organs strewn over the forest floor.  "It was…horrific…there had been some evil magic at work.  I could feel it in the air."

Legolas nodded his agreement.  "There were well over two hundred elves, all ages and sex. They had all brutally slaughtered.  Apparently the one running towards our gates last night was the only one who escaped.  For…" his voice broke for a moment, "we found none others in the carnage though we did our best to look."

Elrond's eyes rested on his adopted son.  "I had feared…I did not know it would be that bad."

"How is he?"

"The elf? A the moment, he is resting. I cannot say if he will survive much longer or not."  Elrond sighed heavily, the weight of what had happened resting on him like a heavy stone.   "He has withdrawn deep within his own mind, it seems as though he witnessed something horrific.  I can imagine that he must have witnessed the slaughter."

The foursome looked sick at his words.

Elrond continued, "If he does not awake soon, I believe he will die.  His mind is not in this fight and he needs it to be desperately."

A silence descended over the room, only broken by Aragorn's quite sobs.

"They were all dead, Ada," he whispered.  "many of them didn't even have a chance to draw their weapons.  Who would kill like that in such cold blood?" his voice trailed off and he leaned more heavily against Legolas.

Glorfindel spoke up, "I think we should all take some rest before we return to the…place and discover what has befallen these elves."

Elrond nodded.  "I will send word to Lothlorien as soon as possible.  The Lady will surely help us."  He looked to his twin sons and made a subtle motion to get Aragorn and Legolas to bed.  "Rest all of you, we will see what the rest of the day brings."

**//Author's note: not enough action…owell…the action will soon be coming, I just have to build to it a little. Read and review//**


	3. Descent into Darkness

_Author's note:  argh…I keep finding more things I hafta go over before we get to the action!  *sighs* owell…next chapter we'll get a little action...but after that I think things will really pick up._

_Summary:  When Rivendell is awakened one night by screams, Legolas, Aragorn, and the twins are plunged into an adventure that very may well cost them their souls as well as their lives and prove how much their willing to sacrifice for friendship._

_Rating:  PG-13—for blood and intense moments…do not say I didn't warn you_

_Warnings: not for the faint of heart_

_Disclaimer:  world domination is on my list priorities…but cleaning the house, feeding the dog, and making my dinner comes first._

_//review comments at the bottom//_

**_Descent into Darkness_**

_     By eck_

Legolas sat with his head in his hands watching Aragorn sleep.  It was times like this when he was reminded how young the ranger actually was.  A mere 18 summers had passed since the babe, only a few months old at the time, had been brought to Rivendell; 18 summers since Legolas' had pledged his life to protect the Heir of Isulidir.

_{Flashback}_

_Prince Legolas stared disbelievingly at Elrond. "You're telling me that you are going to take Aragorn as your own son?"_

_Elrond nodded.  "He has no other family since Arathorn was killed in the orc raid."  He winced as he saw the raw pain that flashed through Legolas' eyes. "I'm sorry, I knew how close you were to the king."_

_Legolas nodded curtly.  "Do not think of it."_

_A long moment of silence passed as each contemplated the days that lay ahead of them._

_"May I see him?"_

_Elrond__ turned his quizzical eyes on Legolas.  "You mean Aragorn?"_

_Legolas nodded._

_"Of course."__  Elrond had led the trembling prince to the small nursery they had fashioned for the baby human._

_Legolas approached the cradle and knelt down to view the sleeping child. With one hand, he stroked the dark hair.  "Your father was my best friend," he finally began in a broken voice.  "When I met him over a hundred years ago, I swore that I would protect him with my life.  I failed him…" Legolas choked but then continued.  "I swear the same to you but this time I will not fail." Planting a chaste kiss on the small brow, Legolas stood and quickly wiped the wetness lingering in his eyes._

_{End of flashback}_

Legolas resisted the urge to reach out and stroke the dark hair.  Little Aragorn had grown into a fine man and Legolas' best friend.  He had never told the man of the oath he had sworn long ago, but it still rested in his heart.

A moan from the sleeping man brought Legolas back to the present.

It had been five days since they had been to the scene of the brutal attack against the group of elves. Since that time, Aragorn had not stopped having nightmares every time he closed his eyes.

The first time he had staggered into Legolas' room and after talking his friend, he had fallen asleep on the floor next to Legolas' bed.  Since that time, Legolas' had taken to sleeping in the chair next to Aragorn's bed despite the human's protests.

Legolas' countered that it allowed them both more sleep as Aragorn did not have to stagger down to Legolas' room every time he had a nightmare and Legolas did then not have to escort him back.  What Legolas did not tell his friend, was that the same nightmares haunted his own sleep as well and he slept better when he knew he was near his friend.

The blonde prince was just beginning to doze when a gurgled cry rose from the man on the bed.

Shaking the cobwebs from his mind, Legolas reached forward to place a hand on the scrunched forehead.  "Aragron, wake up, mellonamin.  It is merely a dream.  Open your eyes."

A few moments passed and the gray eyes blinked open and stared up at Legolas.  A shaky hand reached up and touched the elf's face.  "You're alive?"

Legolas forced a laugh as he leaned back.  "Of course, you cannot get rid of me that easily."

Aragorn's face crumpled in relief.  "I thought, I mean…" his voice trailed off as he scooted himself into an upright position on the bed.

"Do you wish to speak of it?"

After studying the elf before him for another moment, Aragorn shook his head.  "No, it was nothing."  He gave a wan smile.  "Just the product of an overactive imagination."

Legolas arched his right eyebrow in skepticism.  "Dreams can sometimes be far more than that the product of an overactive imagination.  Often they are harbingers of things to come in the future."

For a moment a look of horror passed over Aragorn's face.  Then it was replaced by a calm façade.  "It is nothing, mellonamin, go back to sleep."

Legolas looked wary but nodded as he settled back in the chair.  "Wake me if the need arises."

Aragorn nodded and watched as Legolas' eyes glazed over with the sleep of the elves.  Stirring restlessly, he tried to fall back asleep but every time he closed his eyes, the ghastly images from his dreams appeared before his eyes.  Finally he lay staring out the window of his room watching as the sun rose over the eastern sky.

()()()()()

Elrond had fallen asleep in his study when a young servant burst through the heavy doors that led to his study.

When the young elf saw that his Lord was fast asleep he slowed his pace.  Moving on silent feet, he reached out to Elrond. "My Lord?"  he asked, shaking him ever so slightly.

The dark eyes focused on the elf's face.  Stifling a yawn, Elrond peered up at his awakener.  "Yes?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.  Dimly, he recognized the elf as one of the ones that worked in the Healer's Ward.  "What is your name?"

"Corin, mi'lord.  The Master Healer bid me to fetch you.  The elf has awoken at last!"  He gestured towards the door. "Come quickly!  He fears he will not last much longer."

Elrond shoved himself to his feet and followed the younger elf at a quick run through the still quiet hallways of the house.

The Healer's rooms buzzed with activity as Elrond quickly pushed his way to the injured elf's side.

Pain glazed eyes turned to look at him, fear etched in every line of the elf's face.  "Who are you?  What do you want with me?"

Elrond made a slight hushing noise.  "I am the Lord of Rivendell, we found you lying outside our gates a few nights before this."

The lines eased imperceptibly on the elf's face.  "Rivendell? I am safe then?"

"Yes, you are safe."

The elf laughed loudly even though it ended in a gasp of pain.  "I made it." His voice was almost hysterical with something Elrond could not place.  "I ran away and it didn't catch me."  Just as quickly the elf sobered.  "What about the others?"

Elrond grimaced, he had hoped this question wouldn't come up.  "They were all dead when we found them, can you tell me what happened?"

Wide eyes stared at him.  "Dead? It killed all of them?"  When Elrond did not respond the elf tried to sit up.  "Tell me!"

Gently, Elrond pressed the tense elf back into the bed.  "All of them," he confirmed softly.

The light blue eyes of the elf took on a glazed appearance.  "And I escaped.  Fate was cruel when it allowed me to escape when I was…" his voice trailed into nothingness as his eyes continued to stare at some point out the window.

"Can you tell us what happened to them?" Elrond asked softly.

The elf did not answer.  "We thought it would save us," he continued in a singsongy voice, "It would save us from the sea.  Feralon said it would, I heard him say it. We wouldn't hear the sea anymore, he said, it would save us. And it did. It did. They're all dead, they can't feel the sea-longing anymore because they're all dead.  Feralon was right."  The elf stiffened then and turned his eyes that were beginning to show the edges of insanity back towards Elrond.  "Have you seen him?" he asked in a conspiratorially tone.  "He said he would come here."

Elrond shook his head wordlessly.

The elf blinked and his brow furrowed in confusion.  "Not yet, he said, but he will come! Soon he will be here!" the elf laughed manically.  "They better watch out, he is coming."

Elrond noted with concern that the elf's pulse was racing to fast and the breaths were getting hoarser.  He motioned to one of the healers and a cup filled with a strange liquid was placed into his hand as the strange elf continued to ramble.

"You won't come out after dark; you won't let their children play outside. All because he has come."

Elrond held the cup to the trembling lips.  "Drink."

The elf peered skeptically at the elf lord but obeyed and drank all the liquid in a single gulp.  "Better watch your back, he is coming…" and then he was fast asleep as he sagged bonelessly back into the pillows.

Elrond sighed and tried to erase the image of the eyes filled with madness.

()()()()()

Elrohir heard the rapid whisk of arrows and the muffled elvish curses of his brother before he even saw the archery range that the elite guards of Rivendell employed as their training grounds.

The other dark haired elf was shooting arrows in rapid succession at the targets lined up at the end of the field.  Even though each arrow landed neatly at the center of the target, a curse accompanied each one.

"Elladan?" Elrohir called.  "Isn't it a little early to be out doing target practice?" he glanced at the sky that was just beginning to show the signs of dawn on the eastern horizon.

Elladan turned dropping his bow to his feet.  "I couldn't sleep."  Then he turned back the targets.  "I could ask you the same.  Isn't it a little early to be taking a walk in the forest?"

"Any time is a good time to commune with nature," Elrohir answered primly.

Elladan shot his brother an incredulous look.

"And I couldn't sleep," the older twin amended.

Chuckling softly, Elladan nodded. "That's what I thought."  He shot another arrow.  

"Dreams?"  Elrohir watched the flight with keen eyes.

"Aye."  The reply was so soft—anyone but one of the first born would have been unable to hear it.

"About the attack?"

"Aye."

Another silence passed as another arrow drove itself straight into the target.

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

Elladan shrugged his slender shoulders and walked with a quick pace towards the targets to retrieve the arrows.  Elrohir flipped his dark hair over one shoulder and followed a few steps behind.

"It seems so senseless," Elladan finally said as he fingered the first arrow's feathery tip.  "Two hundred elves brutally murdered with no apparent reason in sight.  What kind of monster would do such a thing?"

Having no response, Elrohir simply shrugged and turned his eyes to the lightening sky.  "It's a cold world," he at last said.  "The time of the elves is coming to an end faster than father or either of us would like to admit.  Soon all of our kind will be left to fade into the West and man will be left to deal with his own problems, its own monsters.  But until then, I suppose we must deal with the monsters too."

Elladan pulled the arrow from the target with enough force that the end snapped off.  He stared at the broken arrow a look of shock on his handsome face.  "I want to kill all the ones who did that." He turned shining eyes toward Elrohir.  "It's not right for immortals to die."

Elrohir shook his head in agreement.

"I want to bring the ones who did that to justice."  Elladan ran his finger along the fine wood, pausing when he came to jagged edge he had just broken.  "Is that wrong, 'Roh?"

"If we bring them to justice, that is not wrong.  But if we murder them out of blind lust for revenge, that would be wrong."

Elladan nodded and looked back towards where the spires of the Last Homely House rose above the trees.  "I'm hungry," he announced then turned to his twin.  "Care to join me for breakfast?"

Smiling lightly, Elrohir nodded and hurried after his brother.

They would deal with the unpleasantness of life and the monsters of the world after breakfast.

()()()()()

Galadriel's soft footsteps did not make a sound as she moved through the solitude of the Golden Wood.  Her infinite eyes seemed to bear the heavy sadness of the ages and her shoulders were stooped under some great weight.

Celeborn watched from the balcony of their quarters and he felt his heart breaking for his beautiful wife.  She did not deserve to have the cares of Middle Earth place upon her so.

The message had arrived the day before from Rivendell with the news of the attack.

Galadriel had been out riding when it had come.  He had gone to tell her when she returned only to stopped by the raising of one of her slender hands.

"Stop," her voice was quiet and heavy with grief.  "I know, the winds and the trees cried it to me when it first happened several nights ago.  I just did not know what exactly until today."  Her deep eyes turned on her husband and he was surprised by the deep sadness in them.  "A great darkness has descended upon this land, the likes of which have not been seen in ages.  But I fear it is only the beginning."

Allowing himself to return to the present, Celeborn slowly made his way down to where she was walking in the forest.  "Is there anything I can do for you?"  He reached out a hand to rest on one trembling shoulder then began to steer them both back towards their quarters a few yards away, quickly ushering her through the slim doorway and in to the comfortableness of their bedroom.

She smiled wanly up at him.  "Just stand by my side as you have always done.  If that is done, then I know I shall make it through this dark night." Her eyes grew distant.  "And the many to come."  She sank down to the soft bed, her arms coming up to wrap around her chest as if to ward off some inward chill.

Gently, he lowered himself to sit beside her.  Reaching out he enfolded the slim frame in his arms, allowing her to support her weight against his chest.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, breathing in her husband's rich pine scent.

Resting his chin upon her head, Celeborn stared out the window at the greenery of the Golden Wood.  His face bore the look of a warrior guarding a priceless treasure that had been entrusted to his keep; but inside he was cursing whatever had brought this weight upon his beloved in the first place.

Much time went by before Galadriel spoke again.  "I must journey to Rivendell immediately."

Celeborn nodded. "I will prepare a band of warriors.  Shall I accompany you?"

Resting a hand on her husband's arm, she nodded.  "I want you with me.  Arwen is old enough now to watch the Golden Wood without us for awhile, I believe I have trained her well enough for that."

Celeborn eased himself out from beneath Galadriel. "I shall go read the horses.  We leave before nightfall?"

Galadriel motioned her consent and then her eyes grew distant again.  "I must warn Elrond as soon as possible.  This evil has visited Middle Earth before and I fear it shall not be defeated easily."

**//not much of a cliffhanger I know…but owell…cliffhangers will come, I already got planned a really good one…*evil grin*//**

**Thanx**** for all of your reviews!!! They mean a lot to me!!!**

Review Responses:

**Arwen-Evenstar****: ya…it is pretty sad isn't it.  Poor elves *sniff* actually as you'll see that it isn't that tragic, well it is.  But it isn't…you'll see.**

**Legolas****-fanatical-fan-girl: i guess the name says it all….lol…**

**Enigma Jade: thank you.  This story really just came out of nowhere and begged me to write it.  Hopefully it's up to par with the rest of the marvelous works on here.**

**Gwyn****: much angst? To put it mildly….ya there will be a lot of angst.  O and don't worry about the Legolas torture, there's plenty of that too.  But it's not really the…owell..you'll see.**

**Pinto:  thank you, I really enjoyed writing the arrival scene.  Some scenes I write feel natural and others I have to struggle through, that scene was one of those ones that just came easily.**

**Ymmas**** Sirron: ok…more it is then!**

**Pilot3001: thanx, I checked your favs and saw that you did!  Thanx for the encouragement!**

**Alexa****:  thanx for the compliment.  I try to proofread my own work and I try to catch everything but sometimes I miss stuff.  I guess a proofreader would help but I've never found one that I really respect. Lol.  I always thought the twins were sort of the "older brother figures" to Aragorn and Legolas.**

**Melissa Greenleaf: well…the injured elf did live…but can will he be sane enough to ever tell what happened?  *jumps up and down*  I KNOW!!! But you'll hafta wait and find out.**

**YunaDax****: well…um…dark elf is um…this elf named..something….he's in Rivendell because this…um…thing…is try to kill him…and the injured elf is the one that is mentally wacked.**

**Imbefanial****:  well..a certain someone would….i'm not sure about your ex…lol…though if he would send me a resume…jk.**

**LeggyLover03: I  hope this is soon enough for you!  The Aragorn angst will be here…just not yet…bwahahaha!**

**  Well, here's eck, signing out until next time!**


	4. Blue Eyes

_Author's note:  finally!! A little bit of action…not much, but, anywho, the stage is set!  This part begins with a dream sequence (as will many of the other chapters) from the point of view of the injured elf._

_Summary:  When Rivendell is awakened one night by screams, Legolas, Aragorn, and the twins are plunged into an adventure that very may well cost them their souls as well as their lives and prove how much their willing to sacrifice for friendship._

_Rating:  PG-13—for blood and intense moments…do not say I didn't warn you_

_Warnings: not for the faint of heart_

_Disclaimer:  world domination is on my list priorities…but cleaning the house, feeding the dog, and making my dinner comes first._

_CHECK OUT my profile to get the link for the TEASER POSTER that I made for this story…_

**_                        Blue Eyes_**

_                          By eck_

_The elves shifted uneasily as they looked up at the hastily constructed stage upon which Feralon was standing.  An air of uneasiness seemed to fill the clearing where they were all gathered. They had no reason not to trust the black haired elf, he had been a well standing member of the tribe for years.  _

_His father before him had been the first to lead this band of outcasts from Imladris, the then Eryn Lasaglen, and Lothlorien into the wilderness over two millennia ago, only a few centuries after the Last __Alliance__. When he had been killed in an orc attack five hundred years earlier, everyone had assumed the young Feralon would take his place.  _

_But instead the young elf, just over a millennia old, had changed his name and left the colony.  Word had reached the colony several years later that he had traveled to Orthanc to study under the wizards there._

_Feralon__ had returned only a hundred years ago, four hundred years after the orc attack, and had quickly distinguished himself as a well known member of the tribe. The younger elves were drawn to his charisma and new ideas.  But still, there was something in his eyes that the older elves did not trust. Something new, something wild, something deceitful, and something that spoke of danger._

_Maruhir stood slightly to the left of Feralon.  Only a century older than the other elf, he had been appointed the cora, the leader of the colony, after the abrupt departure of Feralon.  _

_The elves were now looking to him as to judgment on the plan of Feralon.  He swallowed hard. He had been a good leader and had garnered the respect and trust of the other elves. They would follow his lead no matter what he said or what his judgment was on Feralon._

_The wind whipped sharply through the trees, causing the torchlight to flicker. The mellow lighting illuminated the evening gathering and casting an even eerier feeling among the silent elves._

_He took a moment to study the tall elf that was gazing steadily at him, waiting for the cora to approve his plan.  Dark green eyes, the color of the forest, seemed to glow in a translucently pale face.  Long black hair, slightly tussled by the wind, was framing the high forehead, prominent cheek bones, and small nose.  Thin, white lips were pressed tightly together in a semblance of thought but Maruhir though he could detect a hint of smirk in one of the upturned corners.  It was all together a handsome face, but it also seemed to be a cruel one that Maruhir believed could look very frightening when Feralon was angry._

_Closing his eyes, Maruhir tried to listen to the whispering of the trees but he found that they eluded the grasp of his normally attentive ears tonight.  He cast his eyes towards the heavens to gather what wisdom he could from the stars, but even they were covered by clouds this night._

_Four hundred and eighty eyes.__  Looking at him.  Waiting for his verdict.  Trusting him._

_He looked over at Feralon.  Something seemed dark and wrong about the elf but he made himself brush it off.  He was feeling the threat to his position as cora that was all.  His gaze settled on the three or four elves that were always seen near or around Feralon.  They looked dark too, but again he brushed it off._

_The silence was growing deafening._

_At last he nodded though mistrust still lingered like a heavy rain cloud in his eyes.  "We will listen to Feralon and abide by his plan," his voice was soft yet it still could be heard by every elf present.  As he spoke the words, he allowed his eyes to lock with Feralon's, so it was he alone who saw the twisted sneer that broke out on the handsome face at the words._

_The silence broken, the elves began to speak among themselves rapidly. Some looked happy with smiles on their faces at the turn of events while others look saddened or even frightened._

_Feralon__ pounded his friends on the back and received the congratulations from his supporters with put on modesty._

_In the clamor, even the elvish hearing could not have heard Maruhir whisper, "And may the Valar help us all."_

Maruhir jerked awake from his dream, gasping aloud as his injuries screamed with the movement.  Frightened eyes flew around only did he relax when he realized he was still in Rivendell.  Leaning back against the pillows, he shook his head with undisguised mirth.

His father had been banished from her a millennia ago and now Maruhir was receiving the finest care Rivendell had to offer.  He laughed aloud, not noticing how the sad approached the fringes of madness.

He glanced down at the bandages wrapped around his chest and gasped as all the events came flooding back.   He closed his eyes tightly as the images of death shot through his vision and the knife that…

A door opened and a healer entered with swishing robes.  "You're awake," said a cordial voice.  Then the elf went to the cabinet and withdrew a bottle of an amber liquid which he poured into a cup.  "Can you drink something?"

Maruhir nodded and hesitantly sipped the bitter liquid.  "What is it?"

"Something to fight the infection in your wound. Rest now."

As the elf spoke, Maruhir's vision went blurry and he found himself falling into the deep oblivion of sleep.  Normally he would mind being drugged in such a fashion but this time he was grateful. Perhaps the drugged sleep would keep him from seeing all the dead bodies again and again and hearing their final screams again and again.

()()()()()

"Lord?"

Elrond glanced up at one of the members of his guard.  "Yes?"

"We found something interesting on one of the bodies.  We thought that you might like to see it."  The guard reached to shuffle through one of his pockets for a moment before drawing out a small leather cord with a silver pendant attached to it.  "We felt something dark about it but we could not tell exactly what it was," the guard explained.

Taking the pendant, Elrond immediately felt his fingertips burn slightly with evilness held in the pendant.  He forced himself to keep a hold on it, as he turned it over to examine it.

The guard watched him closely.

"You say the elf you found this on was dead?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond."

Deep in thought, Elrond continued to study the medium-size pendant, trying desperately to block the feel of the evil darkness that seemed to be emanating clearly from it.

It was simple pendant.  No intricate marking covered any of the sides.  It appeared to simply be a block of silver hanging from a cord.  Except for in one small corner where something was written in flowing elvish script.

Bringing it closer to his face, Lord Elrond squinted at the tiny letters.  When he did make it out, a slight chill coursed through his body as he remembered his conversation with the injured elf the day before.

_Feralon__…_

()()()()()

Legolas moved silently through the forest, his blue eyes alert for any danger that might come his way out of the dark forest.  His mind was solely focused on moving with as much silence as he possessed.

The trees whispered softly to each other, wondering where this child of the Illuvitar was going as the sun set in a beautiful myriad of colors behind the western line of forest.  The trees' branches bent out of the way of the elf and their roots sunk deep into the earth to prevent him from tripping in any way.

The elf felt his heart grow weary as he came nearer to the bloody site of the murder.  Irrational fear seeped into his tense muscles and made it hard for him to breathe at all.

The trees also seemed closer together, almost as if they were clinging to each other for comfort.  Their whispers were no longer happy, they seemed dark and fearful.  Foreboding hung on every branch and draped with every cluster of dripping moss; it permeated the air, striking fear in the heart of the elf.

Legolas was not sure what had drawn him to the murder site.  Something about it bothered him, and he was not positive as to what.  Slipping past another thick bush, he remembered the scene he had first come upon when he, Aragorn, and the twins had ventured into the clearing two miles out side of Rivendell.  At first all he could see was the graphicness of the murder but now thinking back on it.

Now the trees screamed for him to go back, desperate to protect him from the grisly site that waited for him a few yards away.  They screamed of the murder thir branches had seen, the horror that they still remembered.

Stepping into the clearing, Legolas was immediately noticed that someone, probably at the command of Lord Elrond, had had the decency to take remove all the bodies, instead a slight mark—not visible to a human eye—was at each spot where a body had lain.  

No birds twittered in the air, the entire area had an air of forced sobriety around it.  The wind whispered the cries of blood and the clouds covered the sun in respect of the area. 

Stepping lightly, and careful to avoid the spots where bodies had lain, Legolas moved to the area near the middle of the clearing.

Immediately, he noticed that the bodies seemed more frequent here, closer together.  Still he forged on.  Then he found what he was looking for, the thing that haunted every nightmare he had about this.

A cluster of large stones lay spread out across in the center of a ring of body markers.  Blood was splattered on the majority of them and a few of the stones were split in half by what seemed to be sheer force.

Legolas knelt down before them, allowing his skilled eyes to travel over them—reading signs that most would pass over as unimportant.  Reaching out a hand, he allowed it to rest on one of the larger stones near the center of the circle.  And then fell backwards as the stone screamed a vision at him, a flash of blood, a flash of light, and a face with frightened blue eyes.

He landed on his backside, supporting his weight on the balls of his hands, and stared up at the clouds desperately trying to catch his breath.  His heart was pounding over what he had just seen.  

_Rocks do not speak to you_, a part of his mind tried reason logically while the rest of his mind twirled around the vision, _trees and plants and grass and even flowers speak to you.  Rocks speak to dwarves, not elves._

_But I saw it! _Another part of his mind screamed back.  _They spoke to me!_

Then a hand was laid on his shoulder

He jerked up, drawing one of his knives in one smooth motion.  Spinning quickly on his heels, he flipped the knife in his palm and brought it up to rest on the person's neck.

Calm gray eyes looked at him.  "It's me," the young ranger informed softly.  "Do not fear, _mellonamin_."  He reached up one hand to touch the hand holding the knife, rubbing it in a soothing motion.  "It's me."

Legolas let out a long shaky sigh and rolled back on his haunches as he sheathed the knife.  "I-I-I am sorry…I was distracted."

The young man gently smiled at the words.  "Elves do not easily get distracted, Legolas."

Legolas forced a smile and a quick nod to appease his friend.  "Which brings me to the question, Estel, why are you following me?  I thought you were brushing your horse!" 

Aragorn smirked in return.  "And I thought you were taking a walk through Father's gardens."

"I was."

"Really."

"I just got…" Legolas hesitated unsure of what to say.

"Lost? Come now, Legolas, you can't expect me to believe that. You got distracted? That's almost as hard to believe as the first one."  Aragorn shook his head at his friend.  "What are you doing out here?"

Legolas sighed. "Something bothered me about," he waved his hand around to demonstrate, "this.  Something just wasn't right about how all the bodies were laid and I think I was right."

Aragorn looked around the clearing.  "I can't see it, mellonamin."

"Do you see how all the bodies lay so close together here?"

Aragorn nodded.

"Well, if you were to walk further in either direction, they are going to get more spread out.  The largest concentration of bodies seems to be around these stones."  Legolas watched his friend for understanding for a moment and then turned back to the stones he had been studying before.  "What can your ranger eyes tell you about the significance of these rocks, Estel?"  

Even though Aragorn was still a mere eighteen summers old, he had been trained by the best of the elves as well as some of the rangers that lingered in the surrounding area.

Obediently, Aragorn knelt and rested his eyes upon the scattered rocks.  "It seems that they were all concentrated in the center in some sort of formation…" his voice trailed as he reached out to touch the stones.

Legolas opened his mouth to warn him.  "Aragorn!"

Startled, the young man turned to look at him with his hands resting still on the stone in the very center.  "What is it?"

His breath escaped him in a whoosh as Legolas stared at Aragorn's hands.  "Nothing.  I thought…never mind."

Aragorn looked skeptical but accepted the explanation. "It looks like some sort of explosion at the top of the rock formation caused these rocks to fly outwards and some to crumble inwards."

"Are you able to tell what kind of rock formation it was before the explosion?"  Legolas had been able to guess all that his friend said to this point.  He hoped that he would be able to deduce the form the rocks before the explosion for he had failed to do so.

Aragorn cocked his head to one side and then rose to walk around the rocks, pausing to examine certain angles more closely.  Finally, he knelt back down by Legolas.  "I think it was some for of an altar.  Though I'm not sure why such a thing would be at this camp.  Elves are not normally given to practicing their worships in the manner of sacrifices."

Legolas nodded in agreement.  "That is true."

"Then what do you make of this?"

Eying the stones warily, Legolas remembered his previous encounter with them.  Then he closed his eyes and listened to the warnings the trees were screaming desperately to him.  "I feel something dark in the air and in these stones.  The trees speak of fire and blood and I am afraid to touch the stones for even now I can feel the evil that they have known."

Aragorn watched Legolas closely, concern in his eyes.  The elf was paler than usual and the man thought he could make out a little bit of trembling in the normally firm and steady limbs.  "Legolas?"

The elf opened his eyes but he did not look at Aragorn.  His gaze was directed towards the forest.  "Let us leave this place.  Something dark and evil is approaching and I have no wish to discover what it is."

Obediently, Aragorn rose to his feet silently, watching Legolas out of the corner of his eye.

Resisting the urge to flee the area as fast as his feet would take him, Legolas followed the ranger out of the clearing.  His senses were alert, the slightest rustle made him jump slightly and heavy on his mind was the dark presence moving through the forest somewhere behind him.

The trees were moaning the dark presence coming, their leaves shivering in the slightly warm air.

Legolas himself shivered and urged his friend to walk a little faster.  

But by the time they had gotten within sight of the city of Rivendell, despite Legolas and Aragorn's best intentions, both were in a dead sprint towards the towering gates.

()()()()()

The dark presence watched the man and the elf flee the clearing with cool, careful eyes.  When they had at last disappeared into the trees, he slowly stepped out into the opening.

He stepped on feet as light as Legolas' and his blonde hair waved slightly with every step.  Walking to the stones they had crouched before, he knelt and reached out a hand to touch them as Legolas' had done.

As the rocks showed him the images of fire, blood, and frightened blue eyes that looked like his own, he wept.

_//REVIEW!! SO I TYPE FASTER!!//_


	5. Osta en’Rhun

**Author's note:  well.  This was done a week ago.  And then ff.net started flipping out and I forgot all about it until yesterday when I was watching ****Pearl Harbor**** and I remembered.  So now I'm posting this. lol. Enjoy.**

**See Chapter 1 for any additional disclaimers and warnings.**

**_       Osta en'Rhun_**

**_By eck_**

****

_Maruhir__ stood still among the other leaders of the small tribe of outcasts and watched as Feralon moved slowly up and down the line of elves that he had pulled from the multitude moments before._

_They were the best of the young males, all elves between 100 and 500.  They were all trim, muscular and handsome; and at the moment, they all looked very afraid and unsure of what was to come next._

_Feralon__ had not told them—or anyone else for that matter—what he had planned to do with them when he had sent his followers to choose them and then line them up in front of all the other elves.  His cold eyes were closed off from emotion and tought and his jaw was clenched, high and resolute._

_Swallowing hard as the tension among the elves grew by the moment, Maruhir remembered the terse conversation he had very briefly held with Feralon a few hours before._

_"I need a young elf that is past his majority but not over 500 years old," Feralon had said as he sat in the small tent that was his quarters._

_A chill had crept through Maruhir.  "For what purpose?"_

_Feralon__ had shrugged.  "To complete the spell I need a scrap of hair from a fit young elf."_

_Maruhir__ had looked skeptical.  He had been called, no, ordered, here by Feralon like a small child; and now he was being give half-truths, if they were that.  Yet, what could he do about it?  Feralon clearly held the power now; all Maruhir could do was hope that everything turned out alright._

_With a loud, coarse laugh unbefitting the serene elven race, Feralon had clapped the slight leader roughly on his back.  "Do not worry, mellonamin.  You doubt me too much. No harm will come to the lad.  Your conscience will not be marred.  I can promise you that."_

_But now as Maruhir saw the fear in the eyes of the young elves and the calculated coldness in the eyes of Feralon, he began to doubt that promise._

_The sky was just beginning to show the pale stars as the sun began to set into the Western horizon.  Foggy sun rays had all but disappeared behind the far off hills and the skies were beginning to turn a light blue as the grayish clouds flicked across them, driven by the wind._

_Seconds turned into minutes that stretched by like long hours as Feralon moved down the trembling line.  Finally, he paused and withdrew a young elf probably just past his 300th year mark from between two of his friends._

_The elf was decidedly one of the better looking elves with eyes the color of newly frozen ice that still has the water rushing beneath it, his hair was in thick blonde strands that fell down his muscular back to end in his slim hips.  A sloping jaw line formed a small smooth chin and a delicate mouth that gave way to a slender nose with softly rising cheekbones that framed his eyes.  Sinewy muscles proved that this one was no stranger to the bow and arrow._

_Yes, Maruhir decided to himself, this was a handsome young elf.  Pity…_

_There was a cry from the audience and a young elf ran forward, her eyes desperate._

_"Dimsulë!" she cried.  "Please no! Not Dimsulë!"_

_Her lover, Maruhir thought absently.  A dim memory surfaced as wells as a picture of them lying intertwined together many nights under the clear moon.  Were not they a little young? He shrugged.  Times were changing faster than he could keep up._

_The girl threw herself at the feet of Feralon, who eyed her dispassionately.  "Please do not take him.  I beg you, please…"_

_The young elf, who was held in Feralon's grip, shook his head fervently.   "No, Tenasa!  You can do nothing. Go!"_

_Feralon__ flicked his wrist and ordered that his compatriots take her away from him._

_They moved and picked up the still sobbing elf maiden and carried her through the crowd despite her and Dimsulë's protests._

_Maruhir__ thought he could hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh before the three elves returned with smug looks on their faces. He winced inwardly.  Was this what he had given his tribe over to? He glanced over at the other leaders but found their faces impassive and stony._

_Dimsulë__ look decidedly sick as he hung limply in Feralon's grip.  His mouth moved but no sound escaped.  His eyes were wide with fright as he scanned the crowd for Tenasa._

_Feralon__ turned to face the other elves, seemingly unfazed by the scene that had occurred only moments before.  "Good elves," he cried, "I have made my selection!"_

_If he had been expecting loud cheers, he got none, however he did not let it faze him in the slightest._

_"This elf will help me usher in a new era of this tribe, where we can function without the constant pull of the sea, where we do not have to live in fear of being slaughtered by the self-righteous elves that banished our fore-fathers from their lands, where we will be the greatest elven tribe that ever was or will be.  We shall make our own settlement where we can defend ourselves against our enemies.  And we shall call it, Osta en'Rhun.  Defender of the East.  For no longer shall we sit back and let larger elven settlements bully us, we shall be strong and firm, we shall prevail and conquer.  We shall be victorious over our enemies!"_

_This time the elves did cheer and Feralon looked decidedly pleased with their cries_

_As he turned to walk off, dragging the young elf behind him, he murmured to his counselors.  "We begin tomorrow when the stars appear in the sky.  Be ready and watchful."_

_Maruhir__ just watched, keeping a stony unreadable face, not letting any emotion seep through._

As his eyes refocused from their dream world, Maruhir found himself blinking fiercely in the noon sun that spilled through the window near him.  Turning his face away from the window, he took a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself.  Every time he fell asleep, those images from the last few days poured through his brain with terrifying vividness.

"Awake, I see."

Despite his best intentions, Maruhir jumped at the voice and then berated himself for not noticing the figure sitting in the corner a few feet away.  "Who are you?" he asked hoarsely, and then squinted slightly to make out the features that seemed vaguely familiar to him.

Lord Elrond stood and walked over to where he was laying.  "I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell, I believe we met the second day that you arrived here. Can you tell me your name?"

Maruhir vaguely recalled that meeting, only blurry memories from those first terrifying moments filtered through his brain.  "Yes, I remember.  I am called Maruhir."  He hesitated. "What do you want with me now?"

"Well, why you were running through the forest outside my gates a few nights ago would be a good place to start.  And why there were over 200 dead elves only a little over a mile and a half behind you."  When Maruhir made no response, Elrond prompted, "when you first woke up you said something about Feralon."

Maruhir's face visibly paled.  "I did?"

Elrond nodded the affirmative.  "You said he was coming to Rivendell."

Slowly, Maruhir shook his head.  "Feralon is dead.  He was probably among the first to perish seeing how near he was standing to the…" his voice trailed off and he shook his head again.  "He is dead, Feralon would not be coming here."

"Why were you running through the woods?"

A long silence. "I was trying to get to your gates," Maruhir said softly. "I had hoped to seek refuge in Imladris."

"Refuge from what?"

Maruhir hesitated again.

Elrond sighed.  "Maruhir, you must tell me, 200 elves are dead not two miles from the gates of my city.  I need to know what I am facing.  Whether it is a demon, an army of men, or a sickness.  I need to know.  And the only one who can tell me right now is you."

Slowly, Maruhir turned to face the Elven lord and in a small voice he said, "It is a demon."

Elrond started slightly but that was all the emotion that broke through.  "You know this for sure?"

"Feralon said that he was summoning a spirit that would help us defeat all of our enemies."

"And then the spirit killed everybody," Elrond finished.  "Who is this Feralon and how did he know how to do this?"

"Feralon was the son of our previous leader, he left when he was quite young to study wizardry in Orthanc, he had always showed an aptitude towards things like that."  Maruhir turned his face towards the wall.   "I am tired now."

Sighing brusquely, Elrond rose to leave.  'I know this is hard for you, Maruhir, but I need to know everything I can about this spirit.  I shall be back later after a servant brings you your dinner."

Nodding, Maruhir did not move until he heard the door close and Elrond's light footsteps recede down the hallway.

()()()()()()

The elf curled up in the crook of the tree, trying to find solace in the familiar branches.  His fists were clenched tightly to press up against the tears seeping down his eyes.

Maybe he would die of a broken heart.  Maybe his all–consuming grief would be allowed to take over his body, and he would be allowed to pass into the Halls of Mandos and see all his friends and family again….maybe…But he knew in his heart he would not be allowed to.  Even now, the shadow that had taken over his mind that few nights ago and inspired him to kill all his kin, was returning to slowly invade all of his thoughts and desires.

He shut his eyes tightly as he remembered the blackness that had taken over his mind and soul that night.  He had fought against it, he really had.  But in the end he had not been strong enough.  In the end, it had conquered and done what it liked with his body, with his soul.

The tree knew of it and it offered no comfort to the mourning elf.  It felt the evil that radiated, albeit unwillingly, off of him, and it almost seemed to retract from the shivering elf, bending its leaves and branches as far away as possible.

The elf could feel the fear and discomfort of the tree he lay in; so at last, he reluctantly crawled from the branches.  

The tree whispered a soft apology.  It could sense the goodness deep with in the elf, but the blackness radiating from the lithe elf frightened it severely and it could not help its natural reaction to the evil.

"It's alright, old friend," he murmured, refraining from the urge to stroke the rough bark and instead wrapped his arms around his cold frame. "I abhor what I have become as well." 

Closing his eyes, he listened to the call of the shadow. It had been growing in his mind and he knew what he needed to do. Slowly, he began to walk from the forest that he loved, towards the mountain passes that could only provide bitter cold.

He did not know how long he walked but he did so without food or drink or rest, only the continued gnawing emptiness in his soul and the growing evilness blackening in his mind.

His feet led him up to the mountain caves, where orcs and goblins were known to roam.  Despite how confident the shadow seemed of where they were going, he found himself shrinking back, trying to slow his feet.

The shadow was strong.  He could feel strength and endurance in his limbs that even exceeded the normal fortitude of the elves.  It was an unnatural strength and it frightened him.

The seasons had not turned into winter, so the mountains were covered with greens and flowers, the snow long since melted away to give way to the joyful presence of summer's flowers.

He had known that his natural senses had been dimmed by the shadow, but it surprised him when an entire pack of orcs, intermingled with a few goblins, appeared in front of him that he had not had previous warning of.  Moving to grab a knife he no longer possessed, he realized that really his only recourse was to run from this place.  But the shadow in his mind soothed him and told him he was in the right place.  He swallowed a lump in his throat.  He would die here, he decided. The shadow would not let him flee.

The lead orc moved forward and the elf tried to cringe back from the ghastly beast before him.  The shadow, however, made his body to be still as the orc drew nearer.

Stopping a few feet away from the trembling elf, the orc dropped to one knee om in the hard dirt.  "Welcome to our home, Master," it said, "we have waited your arrival for many months now.  Already we have sent a band of our finest warriors to capture those that your kinsman ordered."  He smirked up at the man.

The shadow cheered in its victory and swept to take over the last of the elf's thoughts and self control.  With a silent cry for help that he knew no one would ever answer, the young elf fell into the covering blackness.

()()()()()()

Legolas, Aragorn and the twins rode side by side through the green forest outside Rivendell along the slender road that led from the city gates to the nearby colony of Men who lived along the river.  The trees were mostly silent and very little wildlife flitted among them.

Aragorn shifted slightly in the light saddle he was riding in and glanced at the sun. "Should they not have arrived by now?"  he asked impatiently.  "I'm hungry and thirsty."

The twins ignored him.

"You eat more than two hobbits combined.  Take a drink from your canteen," Legolas flipped back

Aragorn glared at him but he followed the elf's advice just the same.  "Remind me again, why did Father want us to ride out and meet Lady Galadriel's party right now?"

"Because, Lady Galadriel is widely respected among all the elves, not to mention our grandmother and Father's mother-in-law.  It would be rude to do anything less than ride out and meet her."  Elladan didn't look back at his younger brother.  "Stop asking so many questions."

"I'm still hungry."

Legolas turned in his saddle to face the young human, saying with a slight smile on his face, "I swear by the Valar and all the stars in the heavens, you are always hungry."

"I'm still growing.  Unlike you who stopped growing centuries ago."  He eyed the remaining half an inch that Legolas held over him.

Making a face, Legolas stretched up straighter.  "You shall never be taller than me, pesky human."

Aragorn cocked an eyebrow.  "I wouldn't count on that my friend."  He smirked.  "What say you, Elladan?"

Rolling his eyes, Elladan twisted around on his horse and eyed the two for a moment.  "I hate to say it, my old friend, but I think Aragorn shall pass you up with in the year."

Legolas made a face.  "Do not sound so smug, Elladan, you are only an inch taller than me.  If Aragorn passes me, he shall not be far away from pass you as well.  You too, Elrohir," he said as an after though to the chuckling elf.

Elrohir shot him a grin.  "Ah, but I shall always be taller than you, Prince of Mirkwood."

"Perhaps, but I always shall be more mature," Legolas declared primly.

"Do not flatter yourself; I am the more mature one here."  Elrohir twisted to fully face the blonde elf and stuck his tongue out. "So there."  He turned back; unaware of the oxymoron he had just performed.

Aragorn's giggle turned into a full fledge laugh as Legolas responded by also sticking his tongue out.  

Elladan turned in his seat.  "Hush, something approaches."

Immediately, they all straightened and checked their weapons.

"Is it the Lady?" Aragorn asked softly, whose ears were not as sharp as his elven brothers.

There was a pause.  

"Nay," Elrohir murmured, "they are too numerous and they move to noisily through the trees.  There are at least 50 of them…" his voice trailed off and he closed his eyes to listen more intensely.

Legolas sat up straight as the smell washed towards them.  "_Yrchs_!" he spat.  "Why are they so close to Imladris?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Elladan noted, "We are too far from the gates to flee.  We must fight them here."

Elrohir nodded as he readied his bow.  "They are just beyond that clump of trees there.  Stand ready."  He flung his dark hair over one shoulder as he pointed his arrow towards the darkness of the trees.  "They will be here in a matter of seconds."

Aragorn felt the familiar rush of danger course through his blood as he drew his own bow and arrow.

Legolas glanced at him and smiled.  "Be careful, mellonamin."

And then the battle was upon them.

The orcs sprung from the trees a few yards away, yelling their war cries and waving their crude scimitars in the air.

Four arrows sprang forth and four of the orcs fell back, but more came up to take their place.

Elrohir felt his horse quiver beneath him and he spared a breath to murmur soothingly to it as he aimed another arrow.

A shriek came from behind them as a group of orcs came from the path behind then.  They charged through the grasses towards the four warriors as they spat out commands in their vicious tongue.

Legolas felt a shiver of fear go through them when he realized they were more numerous then they had previously thought.  Only a second later, a hail of arrows poured from some of the branches.  He ducked quickly to avoid one speeding by his head, but he could do nothing about the one that slammed into the chest of his horse.

With a shrill whinny of fear, the horse fell to the ground, despite its efforts to keep his rider balanced on its back.  Legs floundering wildly, it tried not to trap its rider beneath his body.

Within a split second, Legolas knew his horse was going down hard and fast.  He tried to shove himself off and clear the falling beast, but one foot caught on the underside of the horse and he flailed forwards along with the horse.  He landed with a crash on the dirt ground and only an instant later he felt a searing, crushing pain as the horse landed on hard on top of both of his legs.  Gritting his teeth tight, he closed his eyes against the waves of agony and tried to get the now dead horse off of him, but the particular angle at which he had fallen made it impossible for him to get any real leverage.  In his peripheral vision, he could see the battle continuing.

Aragorn had seen Legolas fall but he was so busy trying to fight off the orcs with his long knife that he could not go to him.  "Legolas!" he shouted over the din.  "Are you alright?"

Legolas heard his friend but he was too busy trying to free himself and controlling the pain to answer.

Elrohir and Elladan had also abandoned their bows in favor of their knives and they shared worried glances over the fate of Legolas.

"Legolas!" yelled Aragorn again.  "Answer me!" Worry was creeping into the human's voice.  He gave a quick upper jab to the chest of the orc in front of him and then feinted to the left, bringing the knife down in a circular motion the creature's exposed back.

Legolas glanced up at again at his friend's call, not able to find the breath to answer.  Then he saw, right above the mountainous body of the horse, an orc creeping up with a hatchet in one hand.

Glancing up from his own battle, Aragorn felt his heart cringe at the sight of Legolas desperately trying to free himself with the orc bearing down on him.  He finished the orc he was fighting in one smooth motion and then rushed over to the orc bearing the hatchet with a loud cry.

The orc turned at the sound and threw that hatchet at him with a feral grin on his disfigured face.

Aragorn managed to dodge it and heard it thunk unto the tree behind him.   He charged up on the orc, sweeping the knife at the orc's midsection.

Reaching to his belt, the orc pulled out a slim knife and blocked the blow with enough force to make Aragorn's arm jolt backwards.

"Aragorn! Behind you!"

The young human heard the cry but he was too occupied with the orc to do anything about it.  The next instant he felt something hard smash into his head and all went dark around him.

Elladan was the first to notice the orcs pulling back into the trees and he allowed himself a sigh of relief.   His twin was right behind him, watching his back just like always.  

_Where's Estel and Legolas?_  

He scanned the almost deserted clearing as he dispatched of the last orc and watched the others flee from the scene.  A cold hand of fear clenched his heart; Elladan and he were all alone in the clearing.  

Legolas and Aragorn were no where to be seen.

**TBC**

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